Beautiful Cruelty
by Mad Boy Poet
Summary: And behold this sickly thing you see before you: this is what was made from that crooked love. A story which revolves around the mental anguish of Inorganic Angel Rosiel, and his depleting sanity. A Rosiel&Katan Tribute. Can you always love me, Katan?
1. Paradise

An anvil seemed to be pressing down on the ominous clouds that sat - looming - above our dismal group. They were well-trained in the act of grieving, these mourners; they were crying, the sky was crying; they were miserable, as was the weather. I was not. I was happy. I was happy.

A constellation of white was scattered across the dark earth - pale flowers wet with tears and rain. A few anonymous people came to lay more by their side as companions for the journey down. And it would be long journey, which they - and she - would travel on. My darling, my darling, farewell!

It was a good guise I put on: thickly-lain sorrow that could conceal even my euphoric thrill. The tears came, and I was the poor, beautiful brother, watching his sibling depart, and in this role I was offered serious top-hatted nods, solemn smiles and condolences from people I did not know nor wished to.

I had only possessed you in death, hadn't I? No one would know, my sweet and icy sister, that you despised me; that you - the other half of my soul - shunned me too. As far as they were concerned, you belonged to me. All mine, mine, mine.

I looked down again. The grave caged my dear one, preserved her as the woman who had loved and been loved by everyone who knew of her. But I knew her true face: cruel, deceitful, bloodthirsty and cold…so very cold, Alexiel!

Soon - bidding me their sympathies as they did so - the humble mourners departed, perhaps a little less grim-looking than when they arrived, black umbrellas bobbing away into the distance. The coruscating stars of Heaven, that would be shining still behind the sky's grey shroud, could not pierce me here. No divine wrath would strike me down for my sins, so I could weave my illusion of tragedy in undisturbed impunity. I raised a dry silk handkerchief to my face, a motion so heavy with grief that it could evoke pity in stone.

And when I was sure they had all gone, out of eyesight and earshot, I raised my head and allowed a smile.

Sister, _my_ sister, my dear, my only…

You were **beautiful**. You were **perfect**. You were **everythin**g I could never be.

And I am still **ugly**...! I am still God's greatest **mistake**. I am **nothing**. I am still…I'm still **Rosiel**.

Rosiel - what a disgusting name. Kill my name, sister. Cut it out, carve my heart, end me. Why didn't you help me...sister?


	2. Heaven's Submission

"Lord Rosiel! Sir, you must wake. Lord Sevothtarte wishes to see you." Rosiel rubbed his head lazily, pouring glass-like strands of silk over his shoulder. The hair cascaded down his back, like a river that pooled on the majestic settee, and sparkled in the dim candlelight. Katan managed to whip in a breath, for he had to be conscious of his breathing at all times. It was so easy…to forget how to breathe.

"Well, he can wait. Sevy is…unimportant.," Rosiel uttered, his voice barely a whisper; all honey and velvet. An angelic voice, one that could probably charm stone into living flesh. The High Angel looked unusually unsettled. Katan was used to Rosiel's mad fits, but this was different, more quietly troubling. A frown settled on Rosiel's face, burdening the dark lashes that flickered over the hypnotic golden orbs. He saw Katan staring, and that was enough to enrage him.

"Lord Rosiel…are you al---"

"I'm fine!," he barked, pushing the cherub away, "Stop leaning over me, and I will feel even better! Honestly Katan, you should treat me with a bit more consideration. I mean who else would take you in…" Rosiel stood, and placed a black-clawed hand on the taller angel's shoulder. "…A filthy grigor."

* * *

_Who else would take you in, my love? It would be better if they did, for you. Because you, Katan, of all people deserve so much more than what I can give you. Why can't I say what I mean to say? So much I want to tell you, dear, and all of it remains unspoken. Perhaps after I wake my sister - yes, yes after that! Then there will be time. Time for us. Time for you and I to talk together about a past life in which Rosiel was great, and not the mere pitiful shadow before you - who dares to injure and abuse you so. Smile my angel, smile because I'm sorry. But you can't ever leave me. Not like her._

* * *

The grin that Rosie; wore on his face contorted it into more of a grimace, making that heavenly visage seem almost…hideous? No, it did not seem possible. _My old Lord would never have said that,_ thought Katan, _he heard us. He heard us when no one else did._

"Ros…" Katan dared to breathe the High Angel's name, his heart bleeding at the sound - but quickly thought better of it, his master was becoming quite unpredictable. Rosiel was already walking towards the door, his lithe body moving with serpentine fluency, heels clicking on the hard marble floor. Looking back over his shoulder at his aide, he allowed a low note of annoyance creep into his voice as those burning eyes ran over the body he had created.

"Did you say anything, my Katan?" 'My Katan' - a friend, a lover, a person most cared for? No - a possession, an object, a toy.

"N-No Sir Rosiel."

"Fine, then let us be off." Then, obediently, the little dog followed in the wake of his righteous master.

"The High Angel Rosiel has entered the hall!" The herald alerted to all the arrival of Rosiel and his servant. Rosiel, the angels all knew who he was: glorious, wise, illustrious and above all, God's favourite child; second only to Seraphita, made with the blood of Adam Kadammon himself! Special enough to call him Father. Father's chosen twin. Sealed away for hundreds of years and freed to save Heaven from the decay of sin! Yes, they knew him. In fact, they exalted him. He was to be Heaven's new hero…But Minister Sevothtarte did no like that.

"Inorganic Angel Rosiel, you show up late to this most important assembly? Please, don't tell us that this is a mark of your commitment to Heaven?"

* * *

_Hmph…Inorganic. Everyone loves to remind me, don't they? That I am not her. That I can never be Alexi…Alexiel. Stupid angels, stupid parasitic mortals, stupid sinful world! I hate you! I hate all of it! I curse everything to the deepest pits of Hell! Mock me all you wish, Sevothtarte. I'm going to enjoy ripping your wings off, foolish butterfly._

* * *

Rosiel floated up the aisle - right past the white angel - with his heavy black cloak flying like wings behind him. He swung himself onto the platform, and into the throne, easily curving his slender frame into its vast stone cradle. It felt distantly familiar to him, but altogether different now. Azuilt, no, Heaven in general: it did not appear that princely kingdom anymore. The view had been distorted for quite some time.

"Sevy, I hope you are not trying to blame the incompetence of your lackeys on me?!" Sevothtarte made an uncomfortable step away from the raised throne. Rosiel licked his lips. "Perhaps next time, you would care to inform me of such a meeting, hmm?" The Prime Minister said nothing, but his piercingly cold eyes said enough: Rosiel had made an enemy today. "Katan," Rosiel began, spotting the podgy form of a toddler peeking out from behind one of the sisters, "Please help escort young Metatron to his chambers."

"Inorganic Angel Rosiel!" The Minster was instantly on edge, gritting his teeth under the dark veil.

"Tut-tut, Sevy. Don't make yourself seem any more idiotic than has already been proved…It is Rosiel…Supreme Ruler of Heaven."


	3. Exposure & Fear

"Katan, it's almost as if you want me to die; making me go to that pointless gathering of disgustingly ascetic angels. What a miserable meeting, barely worth my time." Rosiel stormed into his chambers, wasting no time to shed his layers of finery as he made his way through the multiple rooms. Each one was ornate, and unecessarily lavish: he spent little time in them at all, and they were often _too_ pretty, especially for the Inorganic Angel's eyes. Katan shadowed his master silently - as was expected of him - and took it upon himself to retrieve each disgarded piece of clothing as he followed the expensive trail.

The cherub halted at one particular stepping stone to his path: the tight leather trousers Rosiel had grown so accustomed to wearing, still warm from the angel's flesh. A fresh bloom of colour blossomed on Katan's cheeks, highlighted by the abscence of colour elsewhere on the man; the pale silver hair, the cool hoary eyes...gorgeous, but empty - devoid of love. Both the work of his lord and master, his ruler and only light. His...father. The only one who had, at one point, cherished him. Or had at least acknowledged him at all. Katan frequently wondered why he served Rosiel so meticulously. Why his every thought was consumed by that fragile monster.

Gratitude?

Obediance?

Fear?

Obligation?

But now Katan knew whole-heartedly that the reason he stayed so close to Rosiel was because he loved him. And he also knew, just as well as he knew his master, that he would die for that one love.

The blush grew hotter when Katan turned the corner, glimpsing the snow-white skin - exposed to him - of Rosiel's naked form reflected in the giant looking glass that hung central on the feature wall. The seraph was busy scrutinizing himself in the mirror, desperately, fearfully, checking for any sort of blemish. _You won't find one My Lord. You are flawless._ And then, it came. The question. That unchanging, unsatisfiable question, reoccuring and heart-breaking every time.

"Am I beautiful?"

* * *

_I cannot lie to myself, Katan. I know what I am...and it's hell to know it, my love. I know I have become - have always been - a monster. But I adore it when you lie to me. You tell me of things that can only exist in dreams; things which I had thought were real, before Alexiel woke me from my delusion. You save me from the truth, Katan. Did you know that nothing terrifies me more?_

* * *

Before Katan could answer a sister - a maid, a former grigor like himself - entered the chambers of the High Angel. She bowed timidly, masking her frightened face with her hair. Shaking violently in her hand was a small folded square of paper. The maid clenched a second hand over the one holding it; to calm the tremors.

"Lord Rosiel has been sent a message from Prime Minister Sevothtarte." With a new, but fine, string of courage the girl raised her head just a little. Upon seeing the seraph's uncovered body though, she rapidly sought to conceal her embarassment in the curtain of her locks again. Too beautiful. He was too beautiful even to look at.

Rosiel ignored her.

"Katan?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow. Katan shifted his position nervously, foraging for the words. Each time he said the same thing, but that answer never seemed to please his lord. Contrary to his intentions, it seemed to push the angel into a deeper, darker vortex. Katan was afraid to answer wrongly again, because then his master would fall somewhere that even he could not reach him. A bead of sweat glimmered on his forehead, betraying his emotions too quickly - dressing everything he felt as doubt.

"Katan!?" Rosiel lept forward, but not at his servant. The girl jolted at the feel of the claws against her skin, raking down her small unprotected body.

"No! Lord Rosiel, please stop this!" Her wails were growing progressively louder, until they were excruiciating. They became more insistant. Katan forced himself to swallow the lump that had formed instantly in his throat: no one would come to save her. Rosiel was his superior, in every respect...but...but he could not watch him do this.

"Sir Rosiel! Cease this madness!" he yelled, but the seraph appeared not to hear, continuing to shred ribbons of crimson meat from the barely recognisable maid. The screaming got louder. "Rosiel!" Katan was on him now, trying to pin his arms behind his back. But the he would not have it.

"Leave me, Katan!" A gust of magic energy, unfathomable in its power, commanded Katan's body away from the tainted being, smashing him against the mirror. Shattering it.

And then...the screaming...finished. Everything was red. Everything was scarlet, crimson - like Rosiel's lips. The colour was everwhere, painting everything in its dying tone, until every object and person in the room...bled.

* * *

_It's such a pretty colour, is it not? You think so too, don't you? Katan...you saw me then didn't you?...Is that why you could not answer me when I asked you? Perhaps you were able to perceive the real me then. My true, loathsome form. I cannot blame you...I cannot even love something so ugly. But, I think part of me hoped that you would still value me, sweetest cherub. Ha, it was a fool's hope._

* * *

Katan shied from looking at the corpse, but when his eyes targetted the tiny, ravaged lump, they refused to unlock from the grotesque scene. One side of her had been nearly completely hacked away, an uneven dark mass was all that remained. The other side was scarred severely, but was relatively preserved. An eye. Her eye. Katan swore that he saw it twitch, focus in its socket. Could she still be...alive? His stomach reeled at the thought, and a hot wave of bile pushed its way through his gullet.

God's favourite was laughing. The perfect skin of his immaculate body had been completely soiled, and not an inch of it was unbloodied. The smell of it...the taste of it...the blood was making his head spin. He could feel her flesh thickly under his nails.

"So, Katan?" he asked calmly, lowering himself to the ground near where Katan lay, entwining his body with the cherub's. But the kind Katan, the pure cherub, the violated angel, could not find the words to respond. Rosiel ground his slick body against his companion's, saturating his clothes. Katan grew even sicker at his own compulsive reaction, his mortal organ pulsing at the feel of Rosiel next to him; in spite of his gory appearance, he still awoke forbidden hungers in the lesser angel. And Rosiel could feel Katan's pain, as well as he could the carnal fire glowing in his aide's most delicious core. A sadistic smile crawled onto his face.

"Y-yes...Yes, m-master?"

"Am I beautiful?"

"Always." _Always, Katan? Is that a promise? Will I bind you to me with that word? Can you **always** love me?_

"Hmm...as I thought."

The Seraphic Choir sang in unison around the Creator's celestial throne. The song was wonderful, but haunting: more lamenting than joyous praise. They sang of beauty's brutality; of cruelty and vulnerablity. They sang of a world without hope. They sang of a tragedy which is yet to come.

* * *

**AN**: Hello everyone! So, this is my Rosie/Katan fanfic...which is going quite well at the moment. This chapter was a little bloody, but now that I've done my ultra-violence bit, it's onto the sex-scenes next...(yay!) Of course, knowing my knotted sense of morals, they could be bloody too. I mean, maybe Rosie IS a haematophiliac?! Anyhoo, just for the record, Rosiel-sama is my guy. He's my miracle, so that's my reason for writing this. On the whole, this is just a summary of all the little off-course fantasies that emerged whilst I was reading AS. I know I'm sick! Keep quiet, or the whip will come out! Please review, because...I like receiving comments And that's me until the next chapter! x 


	4. Grave Angel

The moon was a huge, glowing disc – perched prettily in the midnight-blue sky, directly above Etenameki. It was a cool night, and the wind whispered furtive secrets around the Angel Lord, who stood leaning over the terrace walls. It was a long fall from the Tower: that was why it was dangerous to be of such rank. The Tower of God was a precarious knife-edge to be playing upon.

"I used to come here so often…" he reminisced, peering into the perpetual dark, clouded as his mind, and was unable to make anything of it. "I never gained the courage. I wonder if I ever will be able to make the drop…" Rosiel languidly turned his back to the great lunar sphere, propping his elbows on the hard balcony; letting his head roll in a wide circular stretch before settling against his left shoulder. A solitary tear escaped the cage of the seraph's eye to streak its way down the smooth ashen cheek.

He was calm tonight; a characteristic well-known of the older, saner Rosiel, but practically impossible to find in his newest incarnation. It was a quite moment, and it was still. Almost as if nothing had ever changed.

And as if the result of a chain reaction, more teardrops followed…Until a stream of brilliant, glassy tears flowed down the angel's face. But for once, he did not look the least bit doll-like – fake – and hollow; no, he was not even particularly glamorous that evening. But he looked real. He looked so completely alone, too shining to be mortal, and too molested to be holy. Rosiel had a beauty that was all his own, and he owned the word that night.

Like two twinkling, wet gold coins, his eyes pointed themselves at the direction of Katan's chambers, even though there was nothing to be seen. In his mind's eye though, the twin could clearly visualize his sleeping child, sweetly breathing against the quilt of his chaste bed, and he briefly imagined remedying the 'chaste' part. The thought no longer appalled him as it should have, for he had toyed with the idea too many times for it to seem ridiculous. In fact, it had lately been becoming more and more appealing. _Could I really condemn you to that life, Katan? - For the sake of __**my**__ selfish love?_

"Hmph, you must really dislike me, boy. I only wish you could see me like this, so that you would not forget…how much I…" Words, straggly, feeble, were lost among the heaving sobs that shook Rosiel's slight body. Footsteps: hushed, careful. And then –

"Rosiel?" At times like this – when Alexiel was out of mind – Katan's master did not reprimand the lack of title. Katan was more than a little shocked at the sight of him, by the sheer splendour of his delicate body bathed in moonlight, his bare chest white as alabaster, and the tips of his hair soaking up the pale rays too. Snow-white and innocent, the servant could faintly see the shape of wings – three in number – arching around the crying man. Rosiel's eyes – sharp with emotion – stood out most, the yellow embers alive with emotion, glowing like semi-precious gems incrusted on the porcelain mask.

"Katan!" he gasped, embarrassed and timid; a Rosiel that Katan had only seen in quick reflections and squinted glances, an illusory Rosiel. But the illusion was welcomed all the same. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I thought I heard you crying, milord." The High Angel was taken aback, but after a few moments the incredulity gave way to a dreamy smile.

"Just like that time before," he intoned airily, bare feet patting gracefully nearer the cherub. He wrapped his arms around the taller angel's neck, and allowed his subordinate to instinctively capture him in a tender embrace. "And you were right that time too, my Katan." The cherub never failed to soothe him, to console his ravaged heart when he needed it. Ooh, that tantalizing thought was materializing again. On a whim, a throbbing impulse – as was typical of the man – Rosiel decided to act on it.

Suddenly, Rosiel pushed himself up on his tiptoes, aiming to reach the ripe, untouched mouth above him. He held out perhaps just an inch away, his honeyed breath visible on the crisp night air. Managing to wait for a few seconds, he heard Katan's severe intake of breath – and then let his mouth descend upon him. Tongue slipping its way past his lips, Rosiel could feel the tension build within him as his body released its unadulterated hunger for the addictive poison, the taste of this purity. Katan…

"Wait, sir!" A hand forced Rosiel down and away from the cherub's soft mouth.

"Calm down, Katan. It's just a kiss." _Just a sin. But what have I got to lose?_

_

* * *

_**AN: **Bonjour! C'est moi, encore. I sincerely hoped everyone enjoyed the chapter. It was just a nice little scene, wasn't it? Quite sweet, a touch meloncholy, but a good bridge for what I've got in store for next time. Actually, I think Katan needs a bit more on the word count doesn't he? I know the story's about Rosiel, but I probably should mention him more. I just had a strange thought: what if Katan was the one controlling Rosiel, e.g. being a dominator in general, role-reversal? How odd, but cool. Someone should do that. I'm not brave enough, and I don't love Katan that much XD (gomen [ ) I've been thwarted in my AS mood, and I'm all about Godchild now. But don't worry, no one can ever replace good ol' Rosie-kins

x


	5. Roses for Rosiel

_Imagine a place. A place without mirrors, without useless rules, without God. A royally immoral, decadent place where hate and passion can liberally coincide. A place where one is free to say "I love you."_

_Will you help me build that world? No – there is no need for that. It already exists, as God's playground no less. A sordid little affair called Earth. Shame, shame this 'Eden' is forbidden to me. Pity, I have to create its structure in my mind._

_Because we live in a prison; one where all you can see is your own reflection bound a thousand times by brittle, rigid laws. What a twisted soul – what a crooked thing the creator's love is._

_And behold this sickly thing you see before you: this is what was made from that crooked love.

* * *

_

Scalding. Hot, intense, the steam rose from the surface of the crystal pool, curling into intricate weaves of ghostly vapour. The bath was filled to the brim, but the tap was still thundering more water into the pristine marble tub. A little moan of pleasure pushed its way out of Rosiel, as the water broke over the edges of the bath, smashing on the floor and flooding the room. He giggled wickedly as a poor maid scrabbled on her reddened knees while she tried to mop up the spillage to no avail. After around half-an-hour of watching her writhe in panic, he dismissed her with an imperious wave, a splash of water.

It felt like fire against his skin. Destroying fire, cleansing fire – he did not know.

There was a giant pile of roses on the table next to the bath, near the champagne and chocolates. Rosiel picked a single bloom from the bunch, and proceeded to rip the crimson petals off one-by-one.

"Hee-hee, silly flowers! Pretty, simple things; on you go, go and drown." The petals adhered to the Supreme Angel's words – sinking under the water's dark top – instead of floating as they should. Rosiel began to hum a gentle lullaby under his breath. And when he had torn up the hundredth rose, sending it to sleep with its brethren, he sighed the tune until it faded. "Perhaps I will join you. I am too, a silly, simple…pretty thing."

* * *

_I don't even think that this is possible. I don't think that this is going to work. Lucky mortals…It is so easy for you. Yet you always seek to relinquish that ease. One can fix something that is broken, but how does one break something which is supposed to be unbreakable?! I am not my own creation. My body does not belong to me. I cannot kill it. I cannot turn it inside out. I cannot maim it like you roses. I will live, even if I do not want to._

* * *

A strong hand pulled Rosiel up, grasping at the seraph's hair, face, shoulders – anything that it could get hold of to save the him. Rosiel recognized the feel of the hand, he knew it well. Katan. _Rosiel! My God, what are you doing?! Get up, breathe, breathe!_ Why was his master smiling? He had nearly died, but Katan looked upon the High Angel and noted his lips curving upwards at the edges. It was the happiest he had ever seen him.

"I am lost, Katan, lost..."

"Rosiel?" But he was already asleep.


	6. Sweet Paramour

_You should not have saved me, Katan. What do you have to gain from saving my life? Who knows…who knows…who knows, maybe if you had left me - I would have died! And you took that away from me! Maybe I would have been happy! I would be dead! Dead!_

_…But now, dearest, here is a question for you._

_Where do I go when I die? I am a seraph; do angels go to Heaven? If that is so, then I do not want to traverse to that side. So, if not there, then to Hell? I am a sinner? No, that will not do either._

_So what is left for me, Katan? When I hate this wretched world, this wretched life, and all the wretched ones that follow it! When I hate half of myself…in all her wretched incarnations._

_Oh Katan, my pretty cherub! I have thought of a delightful punishment for you…

* * *

_

Etenamenki was a peaceful, serene place that evening. The sun was like a quaint ember, burning out on the rim of the sky, about to disappear altogether. With its humble glory came light - like fire - orange, gold and blood-red, melting into every open surface. The entirety of Heaven was ablaze with colour. And the delicate, smooth harmonies of the Creator's Choir were drifting in on the warm late wind. A culmination of these sights, these sounds, and these sensations created a truly radiant atmosphere that put the whole celestial body of angels in high spirits.

But Katan watched without _seeing_ it, listened without _hearing_ it, sensed without _feeling_ it.

Every particle of him was consumed by that 'event'. Rosiel's…attempted suicide. Naturally, the case had not been exposed - Katan had just returned the Supreme Angel to his chambers (albeit more covertly under the circumstances).

The cherub, however, was still highly concerned. He could think of nothing else, but when he did think of his master, he was ambushed by trivial - unanswerable - questions, unspeakable fantasies; knotted, labyrinthine theories, emptiness and no solutions. Eventually, he decided that it was best to try to stop thinking at all.

"Cherub Katan?" Katan turned, somewhat sluggishly, to receive who had spoken to him. A nameless throne - what did he want?

"Yes, that is I."

"Good, Lord Rosiel has requested your presence - sir" the throne tagged the last word on at the end, to avoid any more stress for himself. The High Angel was enough to deal with, let alone his lackeys too. Brisk in his retreat, the angel hurried away to attend to some other matters. _Rosiel? Has he finally woken up?_ After the incident, the Inorganic Angel had plunged into a comatose state. Several days had passed since his last bout of consciousness. Katan straightened himself.

_I must go to my Lord._

* * *

Rosiel's cries become more urgent - as if he is grieving for something unknown. Katan cannot resist his impulsivness or impatience any longer. He watches his master pouring gallons of briny tears into his clothes, screaming and wailing of his loneliness, and Katan can do nothing. He can only obey.

"Katan!" he howls, almost falling off of the bed to try and reach the cherub - who is edging towards the door. "Katan! Don't leave me! Please, anything, anything but that!" _Come to me, my angel. Come over here…_

His aide halts just before the door, he does not mean to stay, but the pause is too long to permit him leaving. So instead, he turns back the way he came, and finds himself crawling on his hands and knees along side Rosiel on the bed. _Good boy, Katan._

Instinctively, the cherub wraps his arms around the weeping seraph, whose tiny body looks so weak and breakable - even though the truth is quite the opposite. There is an odd feeling in the air though. Something that warns for caution. Because there is danger in the proximity of these two holy beings now. A forbidden closeness. A restless beauty; dormant, and ready to wake.

With a rustle of silk, Rosiel props himself a little higher - but still holds onto his servant tighter than is necessary. Katan is mesmerised by his every movement; the damask of the four-poster's curtains reflecting pink into his usually toneless skin. It is a romantic, hazy colour. Amorous? No, it could certainly not be amorous. Katan is always quick to reprimand himself. He has to, or else…

"Thank you for staying here for a while Katan. I do so need someone." Rosiel's eyes are diverted down, at his wriggling hands, which are coiling like vipers in his nest of a lap. Katan feels a pang of suspicion, and then strikes himself mentally for the foetal betrayal. The feeling is quickly replaced with sympathy, with unfailing, undying love.

Suddenly, Rosiel is rigid, eyes pleading, but authoritive - voice demanding as well as desperate. "Katan! You have long since been my dedicated servant. Now I want you to prove that dedication. Promise me your complete obedience."

"Master, I--"

"Swear it!" Rosiel's voice is left to echo around his vast bedchamber. Katan needs no more time to consider a conclusion.

"I swear to you Lord Rosiel, that you always have and will have once more my complete obedience and allegiance." _Perfect._ A wide, manic grin unfolds across Rosiel's flawless visage. If Katan notices its wickedness, he does not let on. Nor does he acknowledge the sly twitching of Rosiel's eye. _Then you shall be mine. Tee-hee mine, and mine alone! I'm going to take what was never yours to begin with! Your free will, sweet Katan. Your damnable soul!_

"Then show me. Show me your loyalty," Rosiel orders as his hands slip inside his robes - untying - to let them fall loose around his naked body. The other angel flinches with shock, and slight revulsion at his own overwhelming desire to do as his master commands. But he waits for just a moment too long. Rosiel grabs the cherub's hands, placing them both on his erect, unyielding manhood. And once he has shown him what to do, the Inorganic Angel begins the pleasing job of undressing his companion; fingers lightly skimming over the supple flesh, tongue tracing the contours of the body he created. And as he does so, he devours every sigh, every moan - each bead of sweat that forms on Katan's skin - each tremble of pleasure, every stifled cry, and all the little flexes in the soft hand that holds his pulsing organ; for they all belong to _him_. It is his body is it not? He created it. Therefore all things concerning it - down to each milky emission - are owned by him.

_Do you want to know what makes this so delicious? What makes me more hideous than anything Gehenna can produce? I am not raping you, Katan. You are my servant. My son. My aide. My confidante. You are my possession. I am not hurting you, Katan. Oh no - that is what makes this so wonderfully cruel! I am not forcing myself upon you - I am simple forcing _you_ to take _me! _I'll taint you, beautiful one. Make you darker and dirtier - even than that most unholy of creatures, Rosiel._

* * *

**AN:** ZOMG! Rosiel, you naughty boy! Tut-tut, I didn't expect anything better from you though...  
Anyhoo, this is the second-last chapter! That's right, next one is the finale. I promise the ending will be a bit twisted. I should get some shocked reactions, I hope. Or maybe not. We'll see. I will be sad to end it though...I do not really know what people think of this. Because there are few reviews I'm not overly sure what people want, but they'll get what I've got in mind now, won't they? And since when was 'loyalty' a code word for 'penis'!?! Show me your loyalty - pfft, not a chance XD See you next time! 


	7. I Cherish You Still

The morbid, blurry sky did not look the least bit promising. Sevothtarte grunted behind his veil; they had been hoping for clear weather to make this whole waste-of-time go as quickly as possible, but rain - it seemed - was more appropriate for the occasion. Guests filed past the grim graves, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them; the dead and the living sharing the blessed space to watch the deceased depart. One stepped forward to place a white lily on the shiny wooden casket; roses had been forbidden on request of the deceased. Soon, the others followed suit, belying all of their respects and hops in the beauty of an unspoiled flower.

* * *

Katan woke later than he ever had. Rosiel - he realised, worried - was sleeping soundly next to him, breathing warm air contentedly. In slumber, there was nothing sullied about the Angel Lord. Katan knew that he was but a child - amoral - with no real understanding of right or wrong. His morality had diminished with his mind, and he knew now only want, only animalistic hungers. There could be no fault. There could be no blame.

But Katan looked at his master, and all he could feel was bitter pain. An explosion of tears made his vision hazy, but his eyes were still intent in their fury. The more he watched the sleeping Angel, the angrier he became - but he could not rip his eyes from something so heavenly. The act would be criminal.

Rosiel muttered a little drowsy groan, licked his lips, and turned onto his back. The seraph's eyes did not so much as flutter open. Katan found it hard - almost impossible - to decipher the heavy emotions that were ebbing away at his will. They had not tormented him before - doing Rosiel's bidding without question - so he had never needed to confront them.

Mechanically his eyes dropped to fix themselves onto his unclothed form. His purity had been abused, and the agony of it was, he had brought about its destruction. The Inorganic Angel had been acting seductively, certainly, but Katan knew it was his own selfish longings that had driven him to ruin. There was no longer a time Katan could recall when he had not coveted his master's body inside of him. Of course, he had been sure to suppress those feelings, deep into non-existence. But Rosiel had released them; freed all of the passion Katan had held for centuries….and used it against him.

Katan's large hands found a pillow. The fingers clutched in instantly. _Get a move on, Katan! Are you going to do it, or aren't you?_

The cherub forced all he felt to his hands - anguish, hurt, regret, guilt, relief, hate and amazing, dreadful, Godforsaken love - and used them as a weapon. And when he pressed the pillow over Rosiel's face, he did not let go. He was firm, pushing harder, blocking all air from entering - and crying all the while.

The High Angel did not writhe, or squirm in the slightest. Almost as if he had been…expecting it?

Katan could feel the shape of his exquisite face beneath the fabric, and for some reason he pictured a smile there. _Good boy, Katan. You can let go now._ Removing the pillow, he saw a tranquil expression, a faint smile, something of an air of mischief too. It was enough to expel his misdirected rage. Hot tears were searing his eyes again.

"Lord Rosiel!" he cried, cradling the body in his arms. "Forgive me! I never…I didn't…I only loved you! Why did you have to die!?" Then after a moment's quite sobbing, Katan allowed his eyes to drink up a last look of their lord. Something arrested their attention. A note? The angel took the paper from the cold seraph's hand, opening it carefully.

_Things have gone exactly as I planned.  
You did a fine job, my Katan. I'm just sorry I had to burden you with this.  
__Allow me to explain; I did not create you for a specific purpose.  
__But when I did, I knew I would love you more than anything else in this world.  
__And I did. And I still do. And I will forever, precious cherub.  
Unconsciously, however, I installed in you the power previously held by none but my sister:  
__The power to kill me.  
You were the only one to love me enough to end my life, Katan.  
Thank you.  
__And stop those tears - as I know with complete certainty that you will be crying.  
__I do not deserve your grief.  
__Now, Katan, I wish you to execute my final commands;  
__My death is to be a result of the 'incident' - you don't think I'd leave you without an alibi, do you?  
__And at the funeral, I wish there to be lilies. You know how I despise roses._

_Know that I cherish you still, Katan, and do not weep._

_I promise you that we shall meet again someday.

* * *

_

The Choir sang a funeral song in memory of the High Angel Rosiel, as onlookers stood silently - heads bowed as it rained. _It is just like that dream, Katan! Just like that dream I had a while ago. Actually, it was exactly the same as this…Perhaps I was not imagining _Alexiel's_ funeral after all._

Katan stood among them, lily still in hand. He was finding it quite hard to part with. But unlike the other mourners, he had done his grieving. He had said goodbye, but it was the moving on that was proving difficult. Taking a deep breath, the silver-haired cherub walked slowly - but surely - up to the dark coffin. He took a moment for brief reflection:

_You are still __**perfect**__. You are still __**beautiful**__. And you are still my __**everything**_

Gently, Katan dropped the flower beside his love. Turning away, he began to walk. Away from the formalities, away from those weeping and away from God's conforming eyes. He would not look back. He did not need to.

_And in the end, after all we have seen and done, yours is the only name I want to speak._

"Rosiel."

* * *

**AN:** And so ends Beautiful Cruelty! My lord, it was a fun ride wasn't it? I really enjoyed writing it - though it was sadder than many things I've written. Did you expect that ending? I certainly hope not Notice how this echoes the first chapter, Paradise, which was a dream of Rosiel's. This is probably the most I've written about Katan as well. I also think Rosie was really quite sweet in this chapter, probably because he actually had no dialogue! And it ended on 7 chapters - odd, cool, but unintentional. I like it.

Anyway, I can't believe I killed off my favourite character! But I've already planned for another, funnier, ficcy! So hope is not lost completely. Thanks for reading guys, review if you care to, and stick around for whatever else my distorted mind may produce! x


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